LOCKING THE DOOR TO HIS quaint library, the killer turned and strode over to the window. Grimacing, he slid his hands deep inside his pants pockets. With evening approaching, purple hues highlighted the darkening sky. Eyes roaming over the scattered leaves on the grass in his backyard, regret pinched his heart.
Tears welled in his eyes. Remorseful, he choked on his sob. “Oh, Salina. I miss you. We were so close. People never truly understood the relationship we had.” It’d been years since he’d killed Salina, and ‘til this day her death still haunted him, especially at night. Because of the nightmares he’d been having about Salina lately, he hated going to sleep. Hated closing his gotdamn eyes.
Every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep lately, he’d dream that Kayla was on to him. That she’d found out his secret, the secret he intended on going to his grave with. If he could turn back the clock, he would’ve never assisted Salina in her death.
Lips twisting, he removed the photo from his wall and placed it on his desk. Thinking about Kayla, the killer’s fingers trembled as he pushed in the secret code to his safe. Frustrated about the new information he’d stumbled on, he hefted his diary and flopped down in his favorite recliner.
“Damn you, Kayla,” he grumbled, opening up his diary. Placing the tip of the felt pen on the page, he had to write down how he felt. It wasn’t good either.
Dear Diary,
Kayla just so happened to stumble on some information inside her grandfather’s closet that may possibly connect Salina’s death to me. She’s been ordered to keep her mouth shut, but an eerie feeling inside me tells me she’s not going to do that. As long as she thinks her grandfather killed Salina, and not me, I don’t have anything to worry about. But if she ever puts two and two together and it adds up to me, well, let’s just say I have no intentions of going to jail. Mark my words, I’ll do whatever it takes to stay a free man.
Knuckles rasped at the killer’s front door. Wondering who the visitor was, he bolted from the chair, placed the diary inside the secret safe, then hung the picture back on the wall. After he locked the door to his library, he strode to the front door and yanked it open.
“I have some information about Kayla I think you might want to hear,” his most trusted acquaintance stated.
The killer stepped to the side. “Come in.”
“I can only stay a few minutes, so this won’t take long,” the killer’s friend exclaimed, stepping into the foyer.
Disgruntled, the killer closed the door, then folded his arms over his chest. Standing in the foyer, he prayed he could trust the man standing in front of him. The last thing he needed was for him to go running his gotdamn mouth to Richmond. If he did, things on Hilton Head Island would blow the fuck up. And they’d both be responsible.
Eyes narrowing, uneasiness slithered through the killer’s veins. You better not betray me. “So what is it you want to tell me about Kayla?”
The gentleman reached inside his blazer, pulled out a white envelope, and handed it over. “She’s been married before, to a man by the name of Carson. Inside the envelope is a record of her bank statements. She doesn’t have much money. She lives paycheck to paycheck.”
Holding Kayla’s financial statement in his hands, his eyes raked over the statement like a fine toothed comb. “She’s broke as hell.” He lifted his head and met the other man’s gaze. “You don’t think she’s using Richmond for his money, do you?”
“No. From what I can tell, she likes him for him. A lot.”
With all the money Richmond has, he could make this Kayla one of the richest women in town. Well, nobody’s good enough to take Salina’s place. Nobody. “By the looks of Kayla’s bank statements, her ex-husband doesn’t help her much, if at all. If push comes to shove, maybe I can pay her to keep her mouth shut.”
“That’s my thought.”
Suddenly, a genius thought struck up inside the killer’s head. Maybe I can pay Carson to remarry Kayla and take her ass back to North Carolina where she came from. Yeah, that’ll work. Conjuring up the perfect plan to get Kayla as far away as possible from Richmond, the killer’s lips split into a wide, wicked grin.